Never Forgotten
by That-Fresh-Rain-Smell
Summary: Harry will never forget


_**Never Forgotten**_

"That spell, Mister Potter, was made especially for you; in about a year's time, you will never even remember that I, Professor Severus Snape, existed."

Even now Snape could remember the look that had spread over Harry's face as he had said those few words, could remember the horror that seemed to seep from the battered and beaten boy. Even now he could remember the fresh rise of pain within himself, and the cold way he had turned from Harry that night and left him forever.

He always remembered fondly the year that he had spent with Harry as his lover, as impossible as it had seemed at the beginning, when Harry had thrust himself at him. Then he would remember with distaste the two months he had spent on that spell, the spell that would erase himself from Harry's memory forever. Sometimes he had to constantly remind himself why he had done it, and still, sometimes, he wished he hadn't.

Around the end of Harry's sixth year, Snape had started his plans for the spell. It had not been easy, he had reminded himself more than once why he was doing it, and had restricted himself from giving up and basking in Harry's love until they both died. It had taken a constant reminder—which grew to be Harry himself—to keep him going.

He had created the spell not because he didn't still want Harry, far from it. He had created the spell because Harry could have better, deserved better, and he knew it.

If Harry's memory was wiped of all knowledge of Snape, all thoughts that included a slight tinge of romance, Snape would succeed in his plan.

If Harry could be cleaned like that, and given another chance, he knew that the boy would do better with someone who was fit for him. Harry would have a good, clean, loving life with someone more worthy of his love, someone who could laugh with him, or just be with him without guilt, if Snape was strong enough to crate and cast the spell.

And so he had done it, and here he was. Now Snape found himself walking around muggle London, barren of any form of comfort or reason to live, nevertheless looking for something to do with himself. After a few hours of walking around the dark, deserted streets, he gave up, and started making his way back towards his new apartment, one he had just started renting that day.

He managed to get himself lost several times, but on the third attempt, found himself outside the rusting, metal staircase that led to his third-story home. He started to ascend, making sure to tread carefully and lightly on the rusted, groaning metal, with his hand in his pocket and secured around his wand in case something were to suddenly come to pass.

On the second landing, he spotted a small heap in the corner, right next to the next set of stairs, whose body was a continuous shadow due to the disgusting lack of light. Snape moved forward, used to seeing these poor souls almost everywhere, and knowing if he tried to help one, a million more would just take their place. As he passed the person, he heard the muffled sound of chanting, as if the black mound on the floor was casting a spell of some kind. Curious, Snape stopped and leaned closer to hear, but he was still unable to make out the mumbled noises. He bent his knees and became eye-level to whoever it was, leaning even closer until he could distinguish the sound.

"I won't forget. I won't. I can't, I won't forget," was the repeated chant, said in a male voice that was oddly familiar. Snape was about to get up and leave, the chant to close to his prior thoughts for his comfort, when, suddenly, hands—wherever they had been under the mass of black cloth that concealed the bums identity—reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders. A face became visible as a black cloak fell away, and bright green eyes stared at him with an intensity he had seen too many times to be good for his mental health.

Snape became ramrod still, his thoughts jumbled and scrambled around each other in an excited mess. It was only after a few minutes of the quiet chanting that Snape realized Harry was looking right through him, that he didn't even realize he had grabbed his old potions teacher.

"I can't forget him. I won't. I won't forget his eyes, his lips, his neck, his hair…" At each mention of the particular trait, Harry's hands roamed from their death-grip on his shoulders to the particular area; tracing his lips, brushing his eyelids, sliding down his neck and through his hair. Though the hands that caressed him so lovingly, unknowingly, were grimy and rough, Snape felt himself shiver at Harry's light touch.

Though Harry was touching the man he was trying not to forget, his eyes still looked right through Snape, unseeing and full of past memories that he must be practically living in, to be able to escape the spell.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Snape put his arms under Harry, and lifted him, unsurprised at his light weight. Snape carried him up the rickety stairs, hoping all the while that they wouldn't fall through and make them both dead, until finally he reached his door. Using his wand, he opened its several locks, and then went forward into the dark living room, closing the door behind him. He set Harry on the couch and turned on the lights, casting a yellow glow over the unreal scene, before coming back to kneel in front of the shaking boy, contemplating what to do with him.

"I won't forget. Will never forget. Never forgotten him, wont ever." The boy was still chanting, and Snape sat perfectly still as Harry's hands came to him once more and repeated exactly what he won't forget, using his hands as well as his words, running them over Snape blindly as he spoke.

"I won't forget his touch, his skin, his _smell,_ I won't forget him, not ever. The way he held me, how his body felt against mine," Harry shook his head, his eyes closing briefly, "never, never." Snape was now wondering about his own mental health, and how crazy you had to be to sit here and let filthy hands trace every part of your visible skin in remembrance of you when they didn't even know you were there.

He was about to get up, maybe get Harry water, food, clean clothes, do _something _, when he tuned back into Harry's voice for a brief moment right before the hands, now resting on his temples, pulled his head towards the grimy face.

"…His lips…" Harry's lips were now no his; surprisingly warm and soft, compared to what one would guess his lips to feel like, after wha the looked like he had been through. Snape barely had time to register all of this before Harry gasped and pushed him back, though still holding onto his shoulders tightly.

"Severus?" Harry's eyes now looked straight at Snape, full of longing and shock, no longer void of emotion.

"Yes," Snape breathed, looking at Harry with desire that he shouldn't be showing openly.

"You—I didn't forget…I…you said I would, but I didn't, I didn't. Unless…you're a dream…" Harry's eyes started to slip out of focus, and, for the fear that the blank stare gave him, Snape grabbed Harry and pulled his lips back to his own, finding it the only way to keep Harry in the cognizant world. When he pulled back, Harry was smiling, his eyes closed. Harry's arms, of their own accord, wrapped around Snape's neck and shoulders.

"It is you," he said quietly. Snape nodded quite slowly, and picked Harry up.

"Lets get you clean," was all he had the energy to say.

"What, can't stand to kiss me when I'm all dirty?" Harry asked, in a voice that threatened sleep.

"Oh, I love to kiss you when your dirty," Snape said wickedly.

"Not—" Harry yawned, "like that," he said, punching Snapes shoulder very lightly as he eased Harry into a sitting position on the toilet seat.

"I know," Snape said, smiling. He helped Harry change and clean up, using magic for tonight—Harry was surely too tired to take a bath without running the risk of drowning—and then he helped him into the one room where Snape had been sleeping. Harry was asleep in a minute, but Snape had a harder time; his mind ran in circles, contemplating what would happen now. When it was almost three am, Harry muttered something, and Snape leaned closer, straining to hear what he was saying.

"…Didn't _want_ someone else, stubborn bastard, wanted _him_. He just had to make it all hard…not…like…that…but…he's here now…" Harry yawned again and rolled over, leaving Snape a bit colder on the right side of the bed.

So, Harry had obviously figured out Snape's plan, whether before or after he had put it into use, Snape would probably never know. What he did know, though, was that Harry was too strong of a person, too stubborn, to let a spell get the best of him so easily, and he would probably make sure he stayed with Snape for the rest of their lives.

Well,

Snape rolled and wrapped his body around Harry's seeking warmth that he knew Harry could provide easily.

Perhaps that wasn't so bad.

A/N: So, I came up with this story this morning, I had a really awesome dream that won't really make a lot of sense to anyone—it barely makes sense to me!—but it was futuristic, these two men were trying to escape (something akin to 'the island', if anyone's ever seen that) and one, the Uke (Uke submissive, SemeDominant) had sort of betrayed the Seme a few times, and the Seme didn't trust him at all, but in the end, the Seme helped him escape because he still loved him, besides the betrayal, and, as part of the procedure to get out, the Seme stuck a needle in the uke's neck (the base, below the back of the skull) and the Uke trusted him for it not to be arsenic or poison or anything, and then they were on the verge of freedom when the Uke made a little speech about how he knew he had betrayed the Seme too many times, and how he knew he would never get a second chance, nor see him again, but he wanted the Seme to know that he still would love him. It was really cute. The Seme came closer, and his head shaded the sun, and the Uke could see him clearly (the Seme was that guy, the main start on prison break! What's his name…idk) and then the Seme took the map he had given the Uke and changed it, saying that that was the actual way to where freedom was, and then the Seme left, and the Uke never saw him again, right as the Seme was leaving, he yelled out the car window; "that needle in your neck was something that will make you forget me! in two years, you won't remember I existed!"

It was sad.

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**0.0.0.0.0.0.0 READ 0.0.0.0.0.0**

So yeah, uhm…. I've got some original slash stories bouncing around in my head, and I was wondering if anyone would like to read them? They aren't snapexharry, but they are slash and angsty/cute and original, so, if you do, let me know, and I'll send them to you. Review? Love you!!!  
-Kozi


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